


All the angels that I know

by xphil98197



Category: 00Q - Fandom, James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 05:32:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9705452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xphil98197/pseuds/xphil98197
Summary: Sometimes the air in London is a little too close to breathe.The lyrics and title are taken from the song "Deliver Me" by Catie Curtis.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HikikomoriNoAria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HikikomoriNoAria/gifts).



> As always, if you aren't aware of the Facebook 00Q group:  
> https://www.facebook.com/groups/247325658758760/

_ All the angels that I know are fallen and broken _

_ Soaking in the muddy river _

_ All the angels that I love, they don't hang out above _

_ They come down to deliver, they deliver me _  
  


Q sighed and shook out his wings. The London mist was chilly, and it went right through him where there were bare spots, feathers missing. The lowermost flight feathers had mud clinging to them, clumps of river clay that made him blend in against the winter sunset.

 

He took a deep breath and spread his wings, let the feathers settle into place against each other, the gaps not so evident against the expanse of sky and buildings. 

 

“So this is where you come to get some air,” Bond’s voice rang out across the rooftop.

 

Q stumbled as he turned, the wings knocking his cardigan and shirt off the ledge to the floor.

 

“I… the walls were starting to close in,” Q said softly.

 

“I know the feeling,” Bond held the box with the ceramic bulldog in his gloved hands. “I couldn’t listen to any more platitudes.”

 

“They do begin to grate,” Q nodded. “What’s the use of telling someone that their loved one is in a better place? How does that actually make one feel better?”

 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Bond stood next to him. “So, how do angels grieve, knowing that there’s life after death?”

 

“But why are you so sure there is?” Q turned to him. “Do you really think an angel would be the Quartermaster of MI6? Wouldn’t I have some higher calling?”

 

“How does a fallen angel grieve then?” Bond asked. “M did have a thing for her orphans.”

 

“Sex, alcohol, tears, the same way that humans do,” Q said bitterly. 

 

“Was he worth it?”

 

“No, Alex Turner wasn’t,” Q folded his wings and let the tears fall. “The great irony. I gave up my powers just in time to lose him.”

 

“Welcome to earth,” Bond said. “I learned the same lesson.”

 

“And was she worth it?” Q asked bitterly as James threw down his suit coat and shirt, unfurling large, bloody, black wings.

 

“Vesper Lynd makes up part of the story of what makes me who I am, and I won’t go back and change that,” James stepped off the roof in a swoop of wings that sent Q’s hair flapping across his eyes. 

 

“Come on then, come join me, Peter,” Bond swooped back up to eye level, holding out a hand, his eyes the same vacant blue as the coming night.

 

“Don’t you have to be somewhere?” Q stood, in slow motion, a shiver crawling across his skin as he took Bond’s hand.

 

“Yes,” Bond nodded as they gained air, London getting lost in the dusk below them. 

 

“I always forget how quiet it is up here, how still,” Q shivered. “So, where is it that you have to be?”

 

“Right here, with you,” James tucked his wings around Q as they flew, Europe spinning beneath them.

 

_ It's the ones down here in the mess of life _

_ Learning to fly _

 


End file.
